


"I'm bulletproof... But please don't shoot me."

by we-killed-parker (wekilledparker)



Series: Prompt Fills from Tumblr [4]
Category: Sugar Pine 7 RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Prompt Fill, that wound up way longer than necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 06:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13496780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wekilledparker/pseuds/we-killed-parker
Summary: Cib and James have a run in with Brett, leader of a rival gang, while on a mission and Cib fears for James' life.





	"I'm bulletproof... But please don't shoot me."

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt fill from Tumblr that turned out longer and more angsty than I originally intended, thank you to the anon that sent this one. I finished it, edited, and posted at like 4 AM, so apologies if there's any mistakes/inconsistancies, I was half asleep.  
> On Tumblr here: http://we-killed-parker.tumblr.com/post/170183768076/21-cibjames-please-i-love-the-way-you-write

“And what do you think you're doing here?”

Cib whirled around to face the source of the voice, a tall broad shouldered man in a black button up shirt, his eyes hidden by shiney reflective aviator sunglasses. He held a pistol in his right hand, not pointing at anything in particular, just holding it limply at his side, as though bored or even forgetting that he even had it. His entire body language gave off a sense of boredom, making him look like he would rather be anywhere but here in front of Cib, who he’d just caught rifling through the crates in the back of the warehouse that Fakechop had abandoned two weeks before.

“'Ey, what's up dude, is this your place?” Cib kept his hands open and at his sides, trying to act casual. “The door was open and I thought I'd see if anyone was in here before shutting the door. Don't really want people just wandering in, right?”

Cib and James had been tasked with checking out this warehouse after Fakechop had moved out and into their new penthouse, looking for anything the crew may have left behind. The odds of that were slim, but the Sugar Line 7 crew had been barely getting by with convenience store hold ups and no definite supply of ammo to facilitate moving on to bigger and more lucrative heists. Maybe if Fakechop could afford to move to a penthouse then perhaps they left something behind for the smaller crew to make use of. 

“I know who you are, Mr. Clayton James.” The man said, his voice nearly monotone. “And I know you're not from around here and if that was all I'd be willing to let this slide. But. I also know that you're a part of Suptics crew.” 

Cib winced at the use of his full name. This could turn bad for him very quickly. _Alright, James, would be a good time to wrap up that perimeter check and get back here_ , he thought to himself. James had gone around back of the warehouse about five minutes before. But if this guy was here, did he have someone else outside going after James already? Cib needed to stall, to give James more time to get back or to keep himself alive a few minutes longer, either way.

“Well, you know lots about me, sir, but I'm afraid I've never had the pleasure.” He drawled.

The man tilted his head down and smiled at him, using one finger to pull the sunglasses down a bit to look over them at him. “You can call me Brett.”

“Alright, Brett.” He emphasized the T, making a clicking noise with his tongue, “it appears we were wrong about this place, it's clearly still occupied, so I'll just be going now.”

“Nah.” Brett said, his arm snapping up to aim the gun unwaveringly at Cibs chest. “I don't think you're going anywhere.”

Cib swallowed hard. Of course this wasn't going to be that easy. Time to try a bluff. “You know how the big Fakes are hard to kill, keep coming back no matter what. Yeah, we're like that too.”

Brett raised an eyebrow at him, his smile growing broader. “Oh, are you now?”

“Yeah man, I’m bulletproof…but please, don’t shoot me.” Cib backpedaled because _oh shit why did I say that, what if he tests me._

“Hmm, you see, I don't believe you, Clayton James,” Brett frowned, tilting his head back and looking down his nose at Cib, “because none of the Fakes ever claim to be _bulletproof_ , they're just damn hard to kill and even harder to keep dead.”

“Y-yeah, of course, that’s what I meant.” Cib sputtered. “Cause if you shoot me, I'll come back anyways.” _What are you saying Cib, that's bullshit and you know it, what if he actually does shoot you, come on man._

Brett sighed. “I’m fairly certain you are lying to me right now, and frankly I’ve got shit to do, so I’m really tempted to try this out-” 

“Yo, Cib, find anything? Nothing out here-” 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion for Cib as James came into the open doorway. Brett didn’t seem to know anyone else was there, surprised by the man coming up behind him, but spun without hesitation, the crack of his gun echoing in Cib’s ears. He could only stand and watch as a look of shock and confusion crossed James’ face before he collapsed to the ground.

“James!” He yelled, flicking open his knife as he charged at Brett. While James had startled the older man, he was ready for Cib, moving faster than Cib ever would’ve expected. He could barely comprehend what happened, one moment running at Brett and aiming for the side of the throat, the next he was on his knees in a half nelson, his left hand twisted so far past his own shoulder it made his eyes water, his knife skittering across the cement and Brett’s pistol pressed to the soft underside of his jaw.

“To be fair, you never said anything about anyone else being here and he should’ve announced himself better.”

Cib’s blinked back the tears forming in his eyes. “James!” He couldn’t move his head, but strained his eyes to look at James. He could just barely see him out of the corner of his eye, lying still on the ground, a puddle of red growing around him. 

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s getting up right now.” Brett frowned over at James. He turned back to Cib with a gleam in his eye. “But that’s fine, right? You said it yourself, you guys are hard to keep down, right?”

Cib squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, shaking with anger and sorrow. “Just fucking do it already.”

“Nah.” Brett said as he pulled the gun away and dropped Cib’s arm. “Not today.”

Cib gasped as he fell forward, catching himself before he hit the cement floor face first. He wiped his eyes and started to crawl to James, just managing to breath his name before Brett’s pistol connected with his temple, sending him tumbling into unconsciousness.

~~~~~

The hum of a car drew Cib slowly back to wakefulness. The sound was weird, muffled as though he was inside the car, but oddly loud as well. His head ached and he tried to raise a hand to his temple, discovering his hands had been ducktaped together. He blinked his eyes open and found it didn’t matter if his eyes were open or closed, it was pitch black regardless.

He groaned and tried to stretch his legs out from the awkward fetal position he found himself in, but quickly encountered a barrier. He pushed against it with his feet and succeeded in pushing himself across the scratchy carpet surface before bumping his head into another carpet covered barrier. He could feel another wall along his spine, the occasional bump rocking him into it.

 _Am I in a fucking trunk right now? What the hell, why aren’t I dead right now? Oh god, James. He fucking killed James!_ His eyes stung and he could feel them watering again. The image of the shock and confusion on James’ face before he fell was stuck in his mind, the growing circle of red branded on the back of his eyelids. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to stifle the sob that tore itself from his throat, pressing his face into the carpet. The usually reassuring bobbing of the car made him sick and he felt like his stomach would flip and betray him at any moment. 

Eventually the car slowed and took a couple of turns. Another hole in the road made something bump into Cibs leg in the darkness. He tried searching for whatever it was, but the car came to a sudden stop, braking hard enough that he partially rolled onto his stomach, his shoulder impacting with what felt like another warmish body.

“What- James?” He stretched out his arms, searching with bound hands and found an arm, the owner of which groaned. Cibs heart fluttered in relief at the sound. “James!”

The car rocked as the driver exited it and the door slammed behind them, boots scraping on the pavement as they walked to the back of the car. They stopped next to the trunk and Cib held his breath in the silence, his fingers tangled in James’ sleeve.

The person smacked the lid of the trunk and it popped open, Cib blinking in the sudden brightness before Brett’s shadow fell over him. He still wore his reflective sunglasses and his teeth damn near glistened in the sun as he leaned nonchalantly on the open lid of the trunk and smiled down on Cib. “How are we feeling now, kid?”

Cib flinched back, risking a glance at James. His eyes were closed and his face was pale, if it hadn’t been for the groan he made immeted earlier and the slight warmth of his skin Cib would have been entirely convinced he was dead. Cib could feel the fury boiling up inside himself and clenched his jaw again. 

Without even thinking he lunged at Brett again, despite his wrists being firmly taped together, the anger driving him forward and he nearly made it out of the trunk before Brett’s fingers were wrapped around his throat, forcing him onto his back in the trunk again and pinning him there.

“You’ve got guts, kid. And that will either take you far, or it’ll get you killed some day.” He tapped a button on Cibs phone that he held in his other hand and dropped it onto Cibs chest. “Neither of those will be by my hand today though.”

Brett released him and Cib caught a glimpse of a bleach blond haired guy in dark sunglasses leaning against a white Lamborghini nearby before the trunk slammed closed again, plunging him into darkness. 

He scrambled in the dark, managing to catch the phone just before it slid off his chest as he rolled onto his side again, facing towards James. He unlocked the phone and found his text message thread with Steven already open, the most recent sent message saying only “ _Docks. S.O.S._ ” 

He could hear the growl as the Lamborghini started up and drove away, leaving them in silence again. His hands shook as he typed out a more informative text message to Steven, emphasizing the need for medical help and attaching the GPS marker as well. 

He nearly dropped his phone as James groaned next to him and he quickly turned on the flashlight function. James flinched back from the light, groaning again both from pain and the irritation of the flashlight. 

“James, can you hear me?” Cib stage whispered, not wanting to be too loud in the small space. 

James weakley flailed his hand, his hand bumping against Cibs in an effort to push the light away. “Light.” He muttered.

“Shit, sorry,” Cib said, aiming the light towards their feet. The space was tight enough that he could still see James’ face by the glow emanating around them, bright enough that he could see James’ beautiful brown eyes as they blearily blinked open. Cib could feel tears slipping from his eyes, his heart about to burst from relief and an overwhelming desire to kiss James right there. 

“Hey,” James said, giving him a weak smile. “Kinda cozy in here.”

“Might be if I didn’t have ducktape ripping out my arm hair.” Cib smiled back at him. He looked down at James’ chest, where it appeared Brett, or someone from his crew, had put a wad of gauze over the wound and then encircled his chest with about half a roll of ducktape. “Lucky you, they put your ducktape on top of your shirt.”

James frowned at him and lifted his head to look down at himself. “Oh. That’s why that hurts.” He said. His eyes closed and he dropped his head back to the floor, his whole body seeming to go lax.

“Hey! Stay with me, man, don’t fall asleep. You need to stay awake.” Cib said, concern making his throat tight. He put his bound hands on James’ shoulder, gently shaking him.

“ ‘m fine, just tired.” James waved his hand as though shooing a fly away. 

“That’s probably the bloodloss, dude, so you definitely need to stay awake right now. Steven’s on his way, he’s going to get us out of here and we’ll get you patched up, ok? You just got to stay awake until then.”

“ ‘is hard.” James muttered, his eyes still closed. “Talk to me then, I can’t focus…”

And so Cib talked for the next half an hour, telling his wild stories of growing up in a rural town, intrepid adventures with his friends in the woods, that time he totaled his dads car when he hit a moose that walked away like nothing happened. He would frequently check that James was still awake, encouraging him to say something if he didn’t give some sort of remark to the latest story. Watching him get gradually weaker was difficult and he kept checking his phone, a continuous stream of update texts from Steven only giving him a sliver of hope. 

_Ten minutes away._

_Seven minutes away._

_Three minutes away._

_Nearly there, hang on guys._

Cib clung to James, his breathing shallow and his skin becoming cool to the touch. “Come on, James. Just hold on a few more minutes.” He whispered. 

He perked up as he heard the sound of a car nearby, doors opening and closing followed by rapid footsteps approaching. He could hear somebody fumbling around the outside of the trunk.

“Steven?” 

“Cib! I’m here man, we’re gonna get you out. Parker, find the trunk release in the car, I can’t get it open from here.”

Cib partially relaxed, the relief of help arriving only slightly dispelling the anxiety of James’ condition.

As soon as he heard the click of the lid releasing he pushed against it, shoving it open and nearly hitting Steven in the face with it. “Knife! Cut me loose.”

Steven was still startled by the rapid opening of the trunk, but Jeremy instantly produced a knife and sliced through the tape without hesitation. Once his hands were free, he turned back to James, gathering the shorter man in his arms and trying to climb backwards out of the trunk with James in tow. In a flurry of activity the four of them were able to get James into the car, laid across the backseat with his head in Cibs lap and his legs across Steven. Jeremy rushed them back to their house in record timing, Parker calling ahead to make sure Mimi was ready for them. 

The whole time Cib couldn’t tear his eyes off James’ face. He felt disconnected from the situation, his fingers mindlessly combing through the soft mop of hair on top of James’ head being the only thing that kept him somewhat grounded. He didn’t even notice the car stopping or the doors opening until Steven called him.

“Cib! Come on man, we need to get him out of here.” 

Cib snapped back to reality as Steven and Jeremy dragged James out of his arms, leaving him alone in the backseat with James’ glasses dangling from his fingers. 

Parker opened the door next to him and gently guided him out of the car. “Hey, he’s gonna be ok, Mimi’s good at this, she’ll get him fixed right up.” 

Cib slowly looked at Parker and then down at his blood soaked clothes and back up at Parker, who awkwardly shifted his eyes away. The reassurances sounded empty and uselessly hopeful right now. 

They silently walked into the house, Parker directing him down the stairs to the bathroom instead of towards the flurry of activity in the living room, ignoring Cibs protests and instead shoving him into the bathroom with a towel, a hoodie and some sweatpants and instructions to shower off.

He wanted to rush through the shower, get it over with and be back next to James, but his hands were shaking so hard he was forced to take it slow, scrubbing his skin back to the tanned color it was supposed to be. The red and pink water swirling down the drain made his stomach churn again.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he went in, but when he emerged dressed in Parker’s clothes with James’ glasses still in his hand, the house was quiet and Steven was sitting on the steps in front of the bathroom door. Cib eyed him carefully, bracing for the bad news he was expecting.

“He’s going to be ok. Mimi got the bullet out and she had some blood for a transfusion.”

Cibs legs nearly gave out under him, he just managed to catch himself on the railing before he hit the stairs. Steven instantly got up to help him, concern evident on his face, but Cib waved him off. “I’m ok. I just… I think I’m going to have a heart attack if I take another loop on this emotional roller coaster today.”

Steven nodded sympathetically. “You can go see him. He’s on the couch.”

Cib nodded and dragged himself up the stairs and into the living room. He could hear people talking quietly in the kitchen, but James was the only one in the living room, stretched out on the couch with a blanket laid over him, white bandages covering his chest. 

This time when his legs gave out, he didn’t try to stop himself, letting himself fall to his knees next to the couch. 

_He’s alive. He’s going to make it. Everything’s going to be fine._ He kept repeating to himself, the mantra playing over and over in his mind. 

At some point someone brought him a drink and set it on the coffee table, but he fell asleep sitting next to the couch with his head on James’ thigh before he could even get to it.

~~~~~

He woke up with fingers twirling his hair. He always loved having his hair played with, it was relaxing. He sighed with happiness and the person playing with his hair chuckled and threaded their fingers through his hair. He blinked his eyes open and James looking back at him, eyes clear and a smile on his face.

“Good morning, sleepy head.”

Cib tripped over himself trying to get to his knees and crawl closer to James, his legs numb from sleeping in a seated position for so long. He could see the sun was coming up and it was lighting up the living room with a golden glow. 

“Dude, that was fucked, don’t do that to me ever again.” Cib said, wanting to throw his arms around James, but eyeing the bandages warily.

James made the move for him, wrapping his arm around Cib and pulling him closer. “Got it, don’t piss off the local gang bosses.” 

“Or do so, but next time, let’s wear bullet proof vests, ok?”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos appreciated! :)


End file.
